St. Paul daily globe. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1884-1896, 1887-12-25


manners, STRIP
Joe arose upon his launches, ducked
his head to the little lady and awaited
further orders
The moonlight falling upon the beau
tiful girl showed her standing there
with arms akimbo, intently regarding
first the professor and then the dog.
You BENT one o. hus, is yea Ro-
many chal?" Gypsy man, cOmpanion)
she asked, curiously.
"A-a-what, ma'am?" asked Pott,
twirling his hat confusedly.
"a Pilgrim" This rather stOlidly
from the girl.
Eyes, lady; II rather think you
might call us pilgrims-Joe and II
"Where be yOur-yOur friends?"
swell, lady," the professor was get
ting into deep water-''well, Joe there
is my friend; and I'm Joe's friend!''
Hasn't We OtherS?"
''No, lady,"
mot on yearth?"s
"Not One!"
mo friends on yearth! m you maxim
that 'eavenly music? Wy, m you's in
hard luck, Sure!''
Hard luck, lady? All broke up! ell,
JOe?"
Joe admitted it as plainly as a dog
could.
She walked straight up to Pott, took
his ragged hat from his hand, placed it
kindly on his head and said:
''Might-might beg you boldly to
make that music again?''
Eyes, yes; a thousand times. lady ="
Then the professor put his very soul
into the work; played the melody from
beginning to end, never missing note !;
and fingered lovingly over the impro-
vised refrain. When he had finished he
saw that her hands were clasped tightly
across her bosom, and that she was weep
ing bitterly.
"Mizella, racklie!" called a rough,
kindly voice from just over the gate;
.'Oh, 'Zella, ha' ma we better come long
VII Boab! Bring the fiddler Teller, if ye
lOikes.'
cay, ay. Bob Stanley. The music
was a-puttin' me back in old Yorkshire
like!' Then turning to POtt, she said:
Come long with your fiddle and dog,
stranger. Anyhows yell find a sup m
bite DER yon VII hus."
The girl had been to the stream for a
bucket of water. Bob Stanley took it
up, and chatting merrily enough, led
the party, over the old road through
dense woods for a short distance, when,
on rounding heavy clump of oak sap
lings, they came suddenly on large
Gypsy camp.
Prof. Pott and faithful Joe had reason
to thank the good city marshal of Sank
Center that night.
No sooner had they been brought into
camp than Bob Stanley, with broad
grins and much gesture, in a few RO-
many words told the Gypsies all he
knew of the wondering musician and
his wonderful dog; and then these SIM
pie people crowded around POtt in
scores, while he gave them the best
music he could produce, urged on by
delighted applause and grateful incense
of Steaming pots swinging above crack
ling fires; while Joe, in his happieSt
vein, did his finest tricks and passed the
hat so wisely that, amid r0ars of laugh
ter. it was fairly filled with pennies.
Shortly Bob, the grinder, came and
conducted the professor and Joe to his
own rude tent, where a drop Of liquor
and smoking supper were in waiting.
How that hungry, fOOt-sOre wanderer
ate; how Joe ate; and how they both
felt and looked their thanks; no pen
can describe. But Bob grlnned and
grinned. and member after member of
the camp came stealthily up, looked on
the picture Of sudden bliss, and then
silently stole away to rejoin their COM
panions and indulge in the most absurd
pantomime and hilarious laughter.
After the professor and Joe had fin
ished, nothing would satisfy the Gypsies
but more muSic--muSic wild and heroic,
music registering and bacchanalian; and
then dance; aye, dance such as they
had not had since they left old York
shire! Old and young Joined, and never
In all Potts theatric experience, even in
grandeSt spectacular, had he seen or i'm
agined anything equalIng the earnest
jOyOusnesS and the wild abandon of
these tawny people, from haggish spae-
wife to rOsy-faced chauyle, as they sped
| by him in fantastic groupings, and
never desisted until utterly exhausted,
away into the night.
Then, with ''bellowing Bob'' and Joe
for bedfellows, he gratefully sank upon
couch of fresh leaves and aromatic
cedar bOughs. and endeavOred to drive
mind and collect his scattered senses !;
but daZedly he saw the faring camp
fires grow dim and DINNER, was con-
scious of the peaceful hush and quiet
that fell upon the spot, and in trice
was waited out upon the shOreleSS sea
of dreams.
Wanderers themselves, Gypsies de-
spise wanderers of another race. But
there was that honesty, that kindness.
that gentle humility, that pathetic and
helpless sort of vagabOndism, and, above
all, that faculty of reaching their inner
most natures with the allpOwerful
touch of music, which drew these
strange people and this strange nature
together.
Mizella, racklie. the songstress Of the
band, and the professor were insepara-
BILE companions. Upon the road or in
camp, with the melodies which some
way grew more and more tender, they
together became the loved Ministries of
the band. Voiceless of the passion